Between the Lines
by Morbid DramaQueen10
Summary: Ten years later, and she still hadn't quite learned how to read between the lines of context and subtext. And that just might serve in getting her locked up in an oubliette or two... Sarah/Jareth.
1. Chapter 1

**It's been a bit since I wrote something ****_Labyrinth!_**** Recently I've had a bit of an Avengers kick.****Lately I've been thinking a lot about the movie...though, this piece was started months ago.**

**Anyways. **

**As per my usually stories...people pass out a lot...there are twisty points...and lots of thinking...**

**DISCLAIMER: Labyrinth and her characters are not mine.**

**-XXX-**

She isn't about to let him get away with this. No matter what tricky turn of phrase he might turn about as an excuse for this behavior, Sarah Williams would not let this knaving, thick-headed, cowardly Fae wiggle his way out of this one. No way, no how.

"This isn't what I wished for," she grumbles to the darkness, crossing her arms in a half-hearted attempt to bring about warmth, hugging herself against the damp coolness of the oubliette. Not a pinprick of light shines through the dank hole. She is grateful for this, unwilling to know what, exactly, her setting consisted of.

Not all of the Labyrinth's oubliettes are the same, said Hoggle. They're all dark pits, yes, places to leave people to be forgotten, true, but they're not all little carved-out caves. Some of squishy wet places, others hot and dry, some dizzyingly deep, others effectively tiny cupboards to lose a person in. She doesn't wish to know which this one is, so she keeps her mouth shut and her limbs close. A sensation of cold trickles down her spine, though that could be leftover from the rush she'd experienced on seeing the Goblin King for the first time in ten years. Either way, it's uncomfortable, and Sarah hugs herself even harder.

He's not changed much, in the decade or so since their last meeting, in this place -_"Well, not specifically, this place,"_ her inner voice scolds. _"More like…the Labyrinth in general. Or perhaps the dream-scape of falling castles. Whichever you prefer." _– having the same wild look about him with a mad mane of hair, tight breeches, an equally tight smirk, and mismatched eyes that would narrow with displeasure or grow wide with false innocence at the will of their master. Little has altered, which is perhaps good, as she knows what to expect. Sarah, on the other had, has changed a great deal since fifteen, as the King was oh-so kind to point out in a delicate purr. She'd not asked for detailed observations, but rather, bitten her lip and glared.

_"Welcome back, m'lady Sarah. You've come again to regale us all with your bravery…tut, tut, not dressed for the occasion, are we…."_

**-XXX-**

He'd taken her from her dreams. Or, at least, her dreamings. Sarah was perfectly content in her slumber, alone in her, snuggled beneath the duvet. Fairy lights lined the molding on the ceiling, giving the room a fantastic soft glow. The digital letters on her alarm clock faintly read 2:36 a.m. The cat snoozed at the foot of the bed. One of the pillows had fallen to the floor. She was in a nightgown – a far cry from her usual bedwear of sweats and a tank top, but tonight she was feeling particularly luxurious and went for the silky, slinky dark blue, spaghetti-strap, knee-length night gown instead. In the midst of all of this comfort, in the middle of a rather dull dream that involved the mall and shoes that sang Christmas carols, everything…shifted. Scene twisted, Sarah was pulled into a familiar setting of falling pieces of stone, broken clocks, and a desert sunset. And she was greeted by an even more familiar figure, who crept forth from the shadows on languid limbs, a sneer already set upon his most marvelously curled lips, brow furrowed with frustration.

The Fae King was not happy, nor was he exactly discontented. No, he was more…happily agitated by his problem. For she was, indeed, his problem.

"Sarah. Williams." He said her name as though it were two separate statements. Sarah gazed at him with hard eyes. "You've returned to grace me with your most honored presence. Back in the Labyrinth…at last."

Sarah, believing that this was, of course, merely a dream, simply watched the king near, then pace. He walked slow, predatory circles around her. Gloved fingers flexed in and out, straining against the leather. A crop appears out of thin air and taps against his knee-high boots. The noise caused her to flinch. But she didn't look away.

"Goblin King, Goblin King, wherever we may be…take me back." Sarah crossed her arms. She is, after all, rather underdressed. And she didn't miss the way the king's eyes traveled up her form. A mere nightgown was not the most desirable of attire for such a kidnapping. "Well. This is quite the nightmare."

Jareth bared his teeth in something that might've resembled a smile had he not been so tense. "Oh, I would say it is your dream come true, m'lady, but it most certainly is not. Back in my kingdom, where you belong."

She sniffed. "I wouldn't agree."

The King wasn't let down by her attitude, however, and visibly relaxed. "Same Sarah, I see. On some points…" he eyed her form again, letting his gaze linger. "Others have certainly altered."

Sarah turned away, crossing her arms tighter. "Oh, this is an awful dream!"

From behind her, he tutted. The sound neared as he crossed the flagstone to stand at her back. Through the thin silk she could feel his heat. It felt painfully foreign. Sarah unconsciously drew away, back arching. A hand found her neck, brushing aside the curtain of dark hair as hot lips met her ear. Her fists clenched, anger rising to her throat, but before she could protest Jareth was speaking.

"I already told you…this is no dream, Sarah." Her name came out measured. Even. Pronounced very, very carefully. "You are not merely sleeping, dear girl."

Sarah stepped forward, out of the king's reach. "And you're pulling at straws, Goblin King." She shook her head, half-turning.

"This is no dream," the king hissed. "There was something you missed. Something between the lines. You've not won yet."

"What?"

He had her full attention. Smiling lightly, the Fae continued. "We've never had a winner before, you see. So…the rules were little muddled to you. But now that we've cleared things up, we know that winners are granted rights to the kingdom."

She blinked. "Oh. Well. Then…I don't want the kingdom. Thank you. Goodbye."

She attempted to sweep away, but Jareth caught her wrist. "It isn't that simple."

"How can it not be that simple?" She rounded on him, snatching her limb away from the king, eyes flashing. Fiercely, the young woman snarled. "You lost, I won. You offer, I reject. You plead, I refuse. Thanks, but no thanks. I leave. End of story."

"No." Her wrist found its way back into his grip. "Not end of story. You don't know what this means. It isn't a matter you can merely cast away with a wave of your hand, Sarah. Not like every other impulse you've had flit through your mind."

"Watch me," she sneered.

That's when he pulled her tighter, closer. Growling, the king looms over the young woman. "Ah, I'd prefer not…Congratulations, Sarah Williams. You've nearly won the kingdom, its king…you're just a few years late finishing the game to claim the prize. If you do not…well, you see, that will cast my kingdom into chaos. They will, following your petty refusal, be without monarchy, order, stability – a _king._ And we can't have that."

For nearly a full minute he stared at her with icy eyes, trying to impart the gravity of his words. It appeared to have an affect – she quivered slightly.

"Okay, okay," Sarah said, softening her voice. Years of babysitting Toby had finally taught her that when tension rose, when responding it was better to drop tone than rise. Introducing calm did miracles in producing reason. "I get it. You need me to finish…this game. For them. But what if I don't want to accept the kingdom and all that?"

"That is not an option," the King replied calmly.

"Not…an option…." She spoke slowly, eyes glazing. "Oh…my."

"You'll stay here. Rule from the Goblin City. Run the Labyrinth."

**-XXX-**

**I'm praying this won't be too typical...anyways. I think it's going to be 7 chapters or so, depending on how the editing goes. **

**Reviews are golden! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Nice response! Thanks for the feedback, keep 'em coming! **

**-XXX-**

The details of what followed would be unsurprising to all those who knew the pair – Sarah Williams, without a doubt, was not to settle for uprooting herself for the Underground. The King was neither accustomed nor pleased by refusals of any nature. This displeasure was only furthered by the liberal string of curses Sarah flung at him following the curt explanation as to why she must reside in the Underground.

And that was how she landed herself in the oubliette. From the broken dreamscape the Goblin King vanquished his old opponent to a dark and hidden place, where she sat now.

At the very least, he'd been thoughtful enough to transfigure her nightgown into something a little more appropriate – a tea-length gown of the same blue silk, complete with petticoats and proper three-quarter length sleeves, trimmed with creamy white lace. While it was entirely inappropriate for the situation and location, the dress was significantly warmer and covered a greater percentage of her skin.

"Oh, Sarah," she sighs. "How do you get yourself into these situations? First the Labyrinth, then white water rafting in Colorado two summers ago, next babysitting the Winkleson twins…and the Labyrinth again. Smooth, Williams."

"Smooth indeed!" a shrill voice huffs. And in the darkness, Sarah jumps. She hits her head, and hisses in pain. Tenderly, she touches her pounding skull, the point of impact still smarting.

The sound of a match being struck fills the oubliette, and soon a yellowy light fills the darkness. Holding a candle on a pewter holder, wearing a looks of wariness, stands the stout Hoggle. Sarah gasps, launching herself at the little man.

"Oh, Hoggle," she says, half-tearing up. "H-how did you find me?! What are you doing here?"

"M'not here to get you out, if that's what you think," he answers gruffly. "Can't have that – not wit the way Jareth is keepin' an eye on ya. But I thought I'd come by for support. S'not so bad in here."

With the faint golden light of his candle, she can get a better grasp of her surroundings. Stone, entirely stone. But, unlike before, this place has been tooled – it is no cave. There are seams, and the walls are smooth. Sculpted torches – unlit – line the walls. And there are rather ornate carvings along the ceiling. Sarah blinks. This place is rather styled for a dark dungeon.

Without thinking, Sarah grabs the candle from a protesting Hoggle, holding the beam up toward the ceiling, banishing the shadows so that she might make out the images. What had looked like a continuous pattern of vines and leaves transformed, melting into more defined form and shapes. A deer stands out, bounding through a glen. Following the deer is the sleek and mighty form of a lion, jaws open, teeth bared. Sarah examines the reliefs, standing on tiptoe lifting the candle light. Below her, Hoggle grumbles.

Abruptly, the figures move. The lion tosses its head angrily as the deer leaps forward, bounding into the line of trees. The stone seems to shiver. Sarah lurches back, nearly knocking Hoggle backwards in her attempt to get away.

"Oy! Watch it!" the dwarf barks. "Can't be knocking people over – " and he commenced with more grumbling.

Sarah let him at it for several minutes before cutting him short to ask, "If you're not here to get me out, how shall you help me?"

"Eh?" The dwarf pauses. Sarah waits, though with little patience. She doesn't have time for patience – or wants to think she doesn't. Though, perhaps the truth is she's got all the time in the world.

"Well. Not much I can do," Hoggle admits. "But I can…I can give you this."

And from his leather pouch comes forth a small marble. It's clear and flawless, and almost weightless in Sarah's palm. A transparent as a crisp summer sky. She eyes it, rolling the orb between her fingers. "This looks…"she begins, drifting off.

Wary, the dwarf watches her musings. There is a faraway look in the girl's gaze. Shifting uneasily, Hoggle looks down to his feet.

"Curious," she says softly. "It resembles a…but it's only a marble...and surely…." Clarity surfaces, and she blinks. "Oh. But how is this supposed to help me, Hoggle?"

"Eh? I don't…I don't exactly know. He said –"

A wisk of wind swept through the room just then, twisting the tiny dwarf about. Nearly a small tornado, it made Sarah's hair fly wildly around her face, obscuring her view. It also served in blowing out the candle as it departed, nearly as an afterthought. In the whirwind, Sarah drops it, and the pewter clatters to the floor of the oubliette. Then, suddenly, it stops.

"Hoggle?" Sarah cries into the darkness that had swallowed her up again. "Hoggle?"

But there is no reply. She scrambles to tuck the marble into her pocket, then stoops to the floor for the candle. Once her fingers brush the metal, Sarah realizes, regretfully, that she doesn't at the moment possess any matches. Lighting the thing would be near impossible, unless there was some flint or something littering the cave floor. _"But that is highly unlikely." _She sighs to herself, then scoops up her skirts to bunch them beneath her, making a makeshift pillow to sit upon. With nothing else to do, she goes to her pocket, feeling for the marble. Her hands touch a curious thing first – something that is not round and smooth, but rather….rectangular. And almost papery.

Frowning, she takes it out and turns it in her hand. One of the slim sides gives out. Something falls to her lap. And Sarah realizes that they're matches. Quickly, she plucks one from the box and strikes it against the side. A small golden flame sputters to life.

Once she's lit the candle and settled against the cave wall, Sarah has a few moments to take out the marble and think properly. The light cast through the small orb in an almost fractured way. As though it's a cut diamond. She strokes the smooth surface with one finger. _"If it weren't for the size," _she muses wryly. _"It would really resemble his crystals…."_

Nearly an hour passes – or perhaps longer, perhaps shorter, it is difficult to determine the passage of time – as Sarah Williams examines the marble. Eventually, she develops difficulty keeping her eyes open. Slowly, she fell into a light – and relatively uncomfortable – sleep.

**-XXXX-**

**I've noticed a pattern of passing out in my stories. My heroines do an awful lot of it...and not in a weak, fainting way, just in a "****_Oh-no-I've-been-magicked" _****sort of way, or from sheer tired-ness. **

**Hm.**

**Reviews would be splendid...*hint, hint* Questions, comments, concerns...I take 'em all. And answer them. In a timely fashion. **

**If you're on Tumblr, feel free to follow me, or ask questions about pieces in anon, if it suits you. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**And now we get a little more of Jareth's POV...first half in past-tense as Jareth is looking back.**

**Many thanks for all the feedback! Reviews are golden. **

**-XXX-**

He had no doubt she knew of his spectatorship – Sarah Williams would be a fool not the think the Goblin King would watch her in her imprisonment. And, while she perhaps held some foolish notions and did foolish things, the king knew better to believe the Labyrinth's champion a fool. So he watched. Jareth watched her curse him, watched her bemoan her situation, watched her shiver and curl into herself in his oubliette. And held no qualms about it.

He feels a relative amount of guilt, of course. The girl is scared, defensive, naturally. To say the Goblin King could not comprehend her emotional turmoil would be a horrid lie – he fully understands what, precisely, Sarah is going through.

However. Whether he is willing to ease that turmoil…well, that is a different matter.

For nearly a thousand years, the Fae Jareth has ruled the Underground from the Goblin City. In those nearly-thousand-years, he had been tasked with the Labyrinth. Ruling it, of course, among other things. Alone. Without queen or court.

He had once been young and vain, thinking he did not need the advantages of a court of nobles, or the connections a bride might bring. But the young Fae soon found, in perhaps his 250th year of reign that he was incorrect on both counts. The goblins did not produce the entertainment a regular court did. He meant to install one, of course, and eventually did so – but it was a seasonal court that came only in the spring and summers, leaving the long autumns and winters to himself. This was solved when he took up the hobby – some might mistake it for a duty, but Jareth rather enjoyed the work – of child snatching.

On the matter of a wife, the situation was far more troublesome. He was bound to marry, at some point, however, he could not justify to himself taking on just any kind of wife. Fae have a tendency of living for thousands of years. When one took on a mate, it was for life. Jareth didn't wish to wed someone he would be bored with in a few hundred years. He truly wanted a mate for life. Someone vibrant and clever and keen and…and….

Hence the challenge. In the five hundred years or so the Labyrinth has been used as a quest for victims of child snatching, it had also been developed as a sort of test for prospective wives. The one who beat his Labyrinth also had the opportunity to win his kingdom – his throne, his palace, his hand, everything. He wrote up a proper proposal, gave it to his advisors, and it became law; the first woman to win the Labyrinth would be queen. There were rules, of course, and there had to be agreement on the woman's side. So, Jareth settled into the idea, quite pleased. He set up tasks and challenges throughout the maze. And then he waited.

But then almost five hundred years passed. And no one won. No one got even close. A few made it perhaps near the city – into the Fiery forest, or the dump. But not many even got within the Labyrinth walls. Those five hundred years passed and the king grew into such despair, thinking perhaps he was to be without another in which to share his kingdom.

That was, of course, about the time a certain fifteen-year-old girl from Virginia wished her infant half-brother away to the goblins. At first glance she didn't seem like much – a child with a preoccupation with fantasy and dramatics. However, she quickly became more. The sweet and impressionable Sarah Williams was also passionate and brave and eager become…something. He could see such potential for a graceful and elegant young woman to bloom.

And so, he gave her a bit of a leg up.

"_I have reordered time. I have turned the world upside down, and I have done it all for you! I am exhausted from living up to your expectations."_

He never quite told her the extend of his time reordering.

Upon seeing the next runner of his Labyrinth, Jareth decided to go back a bit and place a Rather Helpful Object Sarah's past. One of those objects happened to be his little red book. She found it on her bookshelf when she was eleven, shortly after her mother officially left the house.

The girl had been tucked away in her room, sniffling into her pillow when a book fell from the shelf. She crossed the room to put it back, and upon rising to be eyelevel with the third shelf, saw _Labyrinth. _She knew not where it came from, nor what it was. But never the less, enchanted by the charm the Goblin King had placed upon it, she picked it up and began immersing herself into the world of the Underground. Soon she was acting out scenes and sewing costumes, passionately reciting passages to herself.

She was to be his. Entirely. With the book her imagination grew. Jareth lived for the day she would say those fateful words. With whispers, he encouraged her stepmother to be just a little more strict, her voice a hair more shrill. The girl's dreams featured her crying brother, so that she might never escape him. All was set.

For the sake of the game, he did his very best to deter the girl. But she prevailed against every odd thrown at her. Proving, truly, that she was his champion, Sarah made it to the city at the center of the Labyrinth. She made it all the way to his castle. And then –

He didn't lose. Not really. For, while she had said no, she was young. Naïve. She did not yet know what she wanted. So, he would step away. Give her time.

Of course, had he wanted to, he could've made her stay. Could have found a way past _"No power over me," _and made her see him in a new light. But he did not, would not, and let her slip away. Against its will, Jareth held the Labyrinth together by himself, carrying on the weight meant for two monarchs.

Perhaps, he reasoned, this was for the best. After all, she was still so young. A child, really. Give her time to grow. Let his offer sink in._ "Later," _he told himself. _"She'll come 'round. Later." _Besides, the girl could not doubt his affections when ten years after his initial proposal he stands by it. The situation could very well serve him.

_"Sarah. Princess_." She was born for this. For the Underground. In his dreams, he conceived her with Fae-pale skin, her human ears curving with the passage of years, those forest-coloured eyes growing even more vivid…all while her blood turned to something a little closer to his. Sarah would make a most wonderful Fae. It was a thought that kept him warm many a night.

Ten years passed. It was the longest decade of Jareth's life. He lazed about the palace, discontent, kicking goblins far more frequently. Runners came and went, far and few between - this "_modern age"_ was not particularly good for business – and, just as before, nobody got even remotely close to finishing the challenge. Bored, the king took the time to cultivate his maze further. And when that finished, he had the palace redecorated. He had an entire wing added for the prospective queen, filled with fine things. Jareth held court, but it bore him as well. There were the balls, hunting parties, plays, and so forth, but nothing made the time pass any faster.

Finally, he was resorted to the Aboveground. To see Sarah.

He truly hadn't gone up that often since the night he stole Toby. The crystals had suited him, until the dull hours of waiting caused him to succumb. And so, in Sarah's twenty-first year, Jareth, the Fae King of the Goblins, returned to the Aboveground. Briefly. And only once in a while.

She was at university. The sight of a scholarly Sarah pleased the king. He would watch her at the library veiled and standing between the rows shelves. While she stalked down specific tomes, crouching to reach various novels, he follow, lingering near as she settled down to a table for a study session. It was nothing thrilling – in fact, it was equally boring to most of his Underground activities – but he was _near _her. That counted for something. He enjoyed watching her, in any case. His most favourite moments were observing her when she thought not a soul was around to see her. Her relaxed posture and soft eyes were utterly inviting. On occasion, he'd near close enough to feel the heat of her skin. He would run his hands along the curves of her form, mere inches above the flesh, and close his eyes to inhale.

It was torture. To be so very near. But entirely apart. He was almost driven to madness.

On the day she moved into her first apartment, Jareth was there. He was present for her first day of work. He watched her date a series of relatively nice men, observed her adopt a soft grey tabby from a local shelter, tagged along to Toby's school programs and birthday parties. Jareth was privy to many private moments throughout the next four years.

The remarkable sight came when he saw her buy bridesmaid's dresses – which, was rather frequent; it seemed Miss Williams was a bridal party favourite – and look to the three-way mirror with something deep in her eyes. When no one was looking, a bittersweet smile tugged at the young woman's lips. She would pull her hair back, perhaps in a style she imagined for her own ceremony. Then, after several seconds, she would sigh, drop the dark sheet of silk, and smooth out the skirt of her new dress. The warm smile would slide back into place, and there she would be, happy for the bride, excited for the "big day." But Jareth had seen, just for a moment, an expression of….of….

When she was twenty-five, he decided he couldn't hold his kingdom together alone, not anymore. He didn't really have cause to hold her – she had refused him, which was within the rules of the challenge. However, she still had time to change her mind. The rules never accounted for the when of accepting the crown. Perhaps he was playing between the lines a little, but it was of no matter. With a little planning, the Goblin King was ready to bring his runner back to the Labyrinth.

Sarah was far too predictable. Just as he had guessed, she agreed to finish the "game," but entirely refused to stay. Which, of course, gave him the opportunity to lock her in one of the nicer oubliettes (one of the court oubliettes, so it was a little more comfortable than the standard oubliette. But only just).

To someone on the outside, putting the object of his desire in a dark pit might not have seemed like the best first move for the king to make. But Jareth knew Sarah. If anything would benefit him, it would be giving her time to consider his proposal. Last time she simply wasn't given the time to properly think on his offer. Besides, this time she wasn't faced with any kidnapped baby or disappointed parents. The choice would be hers, entirely, for her sake entirely. Sarah was now old enough to go without considering others in such decisions.

He was very, very aware of the fact that should she choose to stay away, should she refused him again, he could not keep things the way they were. Just as he'd told her, there were those that would happily see him fall. He would fail. And his kingdom would fall unto chaos.

**-XXX-**

At the moment, he sits alone in the throne room. Since the time Toby graced the hall it had been cleaned. Court has only just ended for the season, meaning the room was fully furnished, Jareth's throne polished, and the candelabras dusted. Chicken, hay, bones, and ale were absent from the stone floor. Were he a little less focused on the situation at hand, the king might have appreciated the cleanliness.

However, he is occupied. Legs slung over one arm of the throne, he holds a crystal in one gloved palm, observing his captive sit quietly in her prison. Her lack of activity is disappointing – not much yelling, cursing, or pacing, (all of which entertains him to no end). Still, he is decidedly focused on the oubliette.

Which explains why the dwarf Hoggle is able to burst into the grand hall. Face red, hands balled into fists, the gardener yells a dreadful amount before Jareth snaps his fingers. The snap itself stops little Hoggle in his protests, as does the silver ribbon that winds its way around his skull to tie a neat bow 'round the dwarf's mouth tightly.

"Hoghead," the king sneers. "To what do I owe the displeasure of your stink?"

The little man glares. Jareth snickers. "Oh, do forgive me…it appears you're a little tongue-tied. Well, while you're searching for your words…allow me to let you in on the situation. Sarah is here to complete the challenge she accepted years ago. She has yet to fully claim her prize. Upon her arrival, I explained the circumstances. She refused to see reason…and you clearly know what happened next. Hognose, I am simply trying help her realize how vital it is she accepts the winnings. Merely trying to do what is best for our…dear…Sarah."

Glare increasing, Hoggle crosses his arms. The king rolls his eyes. "Believe what you will, dwarf, but this isn't any grand scheme against the champion. I am doing this for the good of my kingdom…and the good of the girl."

His eyes were so solid, so serious, the dwarf wavered in his anger.

Lightly, Jareth waves a few fingers. The ribbon loosens, then falls to drift gently to the floor.

"What prize?" he demands. "And how do you know it's what is 'best' for Sarah?"

"I don't," Jareth admits coolly. "But I can say it is certainly worth considering. She won the throne, Hodgehead. She's got the kingdom and my hand to claim, if she'll have it."

Silence consumes the massive room for a long minute. The men stare at one another. In the confusion, Hoggle drops his fists. He blinks slowly. Then –

"Your hand," he says loudly. "Your hand –"

"In union," Jareth answers quietly, cutting across the gardener. "She has rights to marriage. To becoming queen of the Goblins. Of the Underground."

The little man gapes openly. His mouth moves loosely, shock claiming his limbs, freezing him in place. The king watches (only slightly amused) in silence.

"S-s-she can't," Hoggle finally utters. "Sarah's got to live in the Above. She's…got a family. And besides, she can't marry you! You're…y-you're—" he stutters before the king's scowl cuts him off.

"I am king and she would be honored to be my bride," the Fae snaps. "Regardless of your feelings on the matter, I will go ahead with this... However. I could use your assistance...You can to go to her. Deliver something for me."

Suspicious, the little fellow backs up, hands held up. "Whaddya need me for? Deliver it yourself!"

"I don't _need _you," the king spat. Then, composing himself, Jareth sighs heavily. "Come now, Hedgeworth. You know she won't trust me. She needs this. I need her to trust, and this is the only way…." He drifts off. "The kingdom won't last without a queen. It can't. I've no heirs, no protection of a bloodline. There are those who would conspire against me. Enemies who will seize the chance to overthrow me – don't you see? Without a wife, without the opportunity to produce heirs, I will be perceived as weak. They will see an opportunity to claim the Underground."

Hoggle sniffs. "No matter to me."

"Oh, but it is quite a matter to _you, _you quivering insect," the king snarls. He sits up in his throne, digging his long fingers into the ivory arms. "Say what you will of me and my rule, but we both know I have treated the Labyrinth and her citizens with justice and respect. I've done nothing but protect, honor, improve this land under a fair rule. You and I know there are others who would destroy that, happily. There are Fae who think of the goblins and your kind as little better than vermon. This land would be disgraced in chaos if they were to see me fall." Jareth sneers.

"And you stand there, bemoaning the fate of one girl you've barely known. You've not spoken to her in months, Hoghobit, years. I've watched her for over a decade. She is my choice for queen." He pauses, lowering his voice and eyes. "Not any pet of mine. She as noble and graceful and wise as any queen, and it is she who shall save us."

Wordless, the dwarf stares.

"If you shall not help me, than I will find one who will!" Jareth snaps.

But Hoggle shakes his head. "I'll help, I'll help," he murmurs. "Feels like backstabbin'…but I'll help. When you put it that way…it couldn't be too...too bad."

And to that, the king gives a mild slip of a smile. "Oh, but it's a trifle, really..."

**-XXX-**

**Oh Hoggle...always so easily convinced! But in this case, it might not be such a terrible thing. We'll see. **

**Here we've seen some reasoning behind Jareth's bossy-pants attitude...detail-y things that'll be better explained later...**

**I hope you're enjoying this. Feedback would be fantastic! Questions, comments, concerns, I take 'em all! **

**Happy New Year's, enjoy the holiday! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**And here we return to mostly-Sarah's POV! But we're not saying goodbye to Jareth...*wink* However, m'dears, no more Hoggle is in the cards! For the moment, anyways. **

**Thanks so much for the feedback, the reviews, the favorites, the follows. Y'all are fantastic! **

**-XXX-**

In the vast and creeping darkness,Sarah dreams. She dreams of the center room of the Labyrinth. The Esher room. Where she had found Toby. The place before the dreamscape of falling stone, desert sunsets, white features, and chiming clocks. She is in the room of before, where he sang, only, it is different. There were fewer stairs. And it wasn't spinning.

She twists about, looking every which way for…something. There is a _"clink" _from behind her, accompanied by a rolling sound. Like glass against stone. Rolling. Sarah jumps at the noise, fantastically turning to find the source of the sound. A soft laugh echoes through the chamber. Sarah steps backwards, looks up, left, right, only to find nothing. Another laugh. Closer this time.

She makes the decision to run, rush out of the room for other parts of the castle, but the steps on her skirt in the first lunge, jolts back, stumbles. A low chuckle sounds from her right. The young woman murmurs a small gasp. Obviously, they can see her, yet she has not the slightest notion of where they – _"Or, him," _she thinks wryly – are hiding. Stumbling in circles, Sarah scans the room for any shadow or twinkle that might seem out-of-place.

A darkness seems to descend, creeping nearer and nearer. Sarah backs up, picking up the layers of blue silk, tiptoeing away. However, her back makes contact with something warm and solid and so very real. She yelps, making to jump away. But strong, long-fingered hands wrap themselves around her forearms. Pulled even closer than before, Sarah whimpers. A light murmur into her hair, and she can feel lips, a nose, and a cheek buried into silky blackness.

"You are safe," he says in the barest of whispers. Inadvertently, Sarah presses against him, quivering. This only causes Jareth to hold her all the tighter.

**-XXX-**

Neither speaks for ages. Sarah closes her eyes, shifting in the circle of his arms. He doesn't make a single move, though, and for what feels like decades they stand together in the center of the vast chamber, twined to one another like ancient oaks, both tall and proud. The Goblin King is at a bit of a loss on how to proceed – it seemed perfectly natural that they meet here, that he take the opportunity to convince her within her dreamings that staying was the very best choice. Her only choice. Yet, while he knows what needs to be said…he is unable to voice these thoughts.

So he holds her.

This is not the first time Jareth has slipped into Sarah William's dreams. In fact, he's done so on many occasions. However, this is only the second or perhaps third time he has interacted with her in any manner. And this is the very first time he's been so close for more than a few seconds. He can feel her warmth, her weight, _solidness_, against him. Smell the clean scent of her hair – vanilla, with touches of lavender and a hint of rosemary – and breath in the undeniably inviting smell that is simply _Sarah_.

While he can practically taste her fear and apprehension, Jareth can also sense curiosity alongside a gentleness akin to care. It's a start.

**-XXX-**

Finally, she manages a few words. "Am I dreaming again? Or did you chance letting me out of the oubliette?"

The king chuckles. "Unfortunately, no. I'm afraid I can't let you out of there until you see reason, Sarah." The way he says her name, so pronounced, gives her another bout of quivers.

"Reason?" Within his grip, she turns. "What reason is there to see? You're asking me to volunteer to be imprisoned in the Labyrinth! Stuck here, forever!"

Jareth frowns. "I am offering you a kingdom. A new life. This will be no jail to you, Sarah."

She scoffed. "No jail? Without the ability to see my family…my friends…giving up my life, the life I've worked for? That's not imprisonment?! Being here, in the Labyrinth ten years ago did a number on me. And you might not understand, Goblin King, but it was a struggle to find comfort,_ normalcy _again -"

In a matter of milliseconds she's been pushed from his, nearly tossed away. The king's lips curl. "I don't understand?" he demands. "You don't think I struggled? I, who had put everything at the feet of a _child_, only to be degraded and mocked—"

"Don't you dare blame this on Toby," Sarah snaps.

"He wasn't the child I was referring to," says Jareth, coldly.

The young woman crosses her arms, lips pursed tightly. "I was fifteen."

"And I had given you everything!" the king roars. "I was generous. I could have denied you nothing, but the single thing I asked of you…you throw it back in my face. You mock me with my own words. _'My kingdom as great,' _psh! All I offered you, and you had the audacity to refuse without even a second thought?"

He surges upon her, eyes flashing, sparking like a Roman candle. Sarah backs away, matching each step. Eyes wide, she bites her lip. It's enough to remind him; she may not be fifteen anymore, but Sarah Williams is still little more than a girl. _"Twenty-five does not a woman make," _he thinks bitterly, and halts in his assault.

"I'm sorry," she begins in a very, very small voice, blinking with bright eyes. "I thought….I didn't know….."

"You wanted a villain," he says heavily. "You needed someone to do the rescuing from. I provided that, Sarah. Perhaps it was a foresight."

"Goblin King –"

**-XXX-**

**It struck me, reading through this, that Jareth never, in the movie, got full-on-pissed. He never truly yelled. He got annoyed, yes, disgruntled, frustrated, disappointed, etc. But we never saw him rip-roaring mad. I wondering if perhaps this characterization, here, was a little off. But then I reasoned, well, he's waited a decade. Then he'd got this dwarf stomping into his throne room, moaning and whining. Then Sarah's being - sadly - reasonable, and refusing his advances... **

**You gotta feel for the guy. **

**Shorter chapter, but the following chapter will be a bit longer. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**This is a little bit longer...we're getting an interesting flashback...**

**-XXX-**

Waking with a jolt, Sarah finds herself again in the oubliette. The candle has likely been burning for hours, but is less than a centimeter lower than before. In her hand, clutched so securely, is the marble. Despite the warmth of her hand, it's entirely cold. She opens her palm to examine the tiny thing.

Why? Why had Hoggle left this with her? How was a tiny transparent marble possibly supposed to help her in any way?

_"Turn it this way…and it can show you your dreams…." _A smooth voice keens in her ear.

Unconsciously, Sarah shifts away from the wall. "I already know my dreams, thanks," she murmurs.

Oh, but why had Jareth taken Hoggle too? For it surely was the king who took her dwarf friend. He'd think it was quite funny to tempt her with a friend, tease her, then take Hoggle abruptly, leaving Sarah with a few cryptic words and a useless crystal.

"He always managed to make them do magical things. Of course, they were quite a bit bigger." Sarah sighs. "As though I could see my dreams in this…thing. What good would that do, besides? My dreams aren't going to get me out of this place. Or feed me."

In that moment she felt a slight pang of hunger, realizing she'd been in the oubliette for a substantial amount of time. By some magic she hasn't heard the calls of nature yet. But she is hungry.

As she ponders this, a faint "_pop" _echoes through the room. Sarah nearly jumps out of her skin. She is again at ease (or, as easy as one who has been kidnapped and imprisoned can be) upon seeing the basket and pitcher. Cautiously, she stands and crosses to the corner were they sit, unassuming.

The Goblin King has left her with water, some tasty-looking wheat rolls, a small roll of yellow cheese along with a carving knife, and, of course, peaches. At that, Sarah rolls her eyes. Nevertheless, she takes out one of the perfectly smooth pieces of fruit.

After a quiet interval of eating, Sarah is left to the silence once more. Again, she looks at the marble, fiddles with the hem of her skirts, and examines the curious reliefs about the room. At one point, she imagines various stories to go along with the vividly realistic pictures. The deer is a transformed maiden. The dragon is looking for a meal. They're racing, both seeking a magical rabbit…She smiles. Similar stories she used to tell Toby. He's nearly twelve now, and far too old for such things.

_"Funny. When I was his age, I still like listening to stories. And believing in magic," _she thinks wistfully.

In fact, it wasn't until she was fifteen that Sarah stopped enjoying fantastical tales. That year, before her next birthday, she had pack away all the books, music boxes, costumes, toys, glittery knick-knacks, and other more childish toys, shoving the boxes into the attic without a second thought. No regrets. _"No mystery there."_

Thinking about fifteen reminds Sarah of her location. Her predicament. Her captor….

_"He's right," _she thinks wryly. _"I was practically looking for a villain. All of those afternoons in the park, reciting powerful words so I could defeat something. Something a little more within my power…." _

The college-educated Sarah, the Sarah who had read Freud and taken a few psych classes, knew that this need for a villain likely stemmed from her loathing of her home life at the time. But Karen-the-stepmother wasn't really a viable option as a villain. And while Sarah resented her father, teachers, and pretty much every adult in an authoritative position, there was little she could do in opposition of them. Toby couldn'tve been any kind of enemy. So, the teenager was left with nothing to fight. No force of evil in which to defeat.

_ "So I built one of my own." _

Had she been mature enough to seek a prince, perhaps he'd come to her on a white steed on some sunset.

Assuming he'd wish to please her. Sarah rolls her eyes. Of course, he'd been after the baby. It wasn't anything to do with her. The last ploy had been his proposal. And this? Now? Her imprisonment? "_Revenge, of course. Naturally."_

She doesn't really believe it, though. Sarah has never been good of convincing herself. _"He seems to be going through an awful lot of effort just to exact some sort of vengeance. All of that frustration…."_

Staring into the marble, she falls into a daze. The light twists the picture of the orb. The dark of the cave melds with the gold of the candle flame. Slowly, it melts into a steady silver, swirling and turning. Soon, Sarah Williams isn't quite in herself anymore.

**-XXX-**

Velvet and silk.

It's the first thing she notices. Next is the polish floor – _"Is that marble inlaid into the wood?!" – _and mahogany four-poster overwhelming one wall. Draped in heavy brocade and silk curtains, the bedding is also silk with a velvet duvet. It's luxurious, and Sarah's desire to throw herself onto those plump (and probably goose down) pillows is pitiful.

A fire crackles in a marvelous fireplace in the adjoining wall. The mantle holds a massive silver clock, along with several matching candlesticks. Above the clock rests a large painting of what appears to be a map of the Labyrinth. Nearing, Sarah is surprised to see small figures moving along the various paths, also with disappearing walls, or barriers rearranging themselves.

Other features of the room include thick, finely woven carpets, a massive wardrobe, also mahogany, trimmed with gold, a pair of winged-back armchair sitting before the fireplace, a small breakfast table, two floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that stand to either side of the fire, and several massive windows. One even turned out to be something of a balcony. A variety of magical bits and bobs are scattered throughout the chamber, like vases of flowers, a temperamental long-haired white cat, some sort of bird perch, a night-coloured cloak flung onto one of the arm chairs.

_"Whose room is this?" _

She wanders for nearly ten minutes before an answer comes. When it does, it's almost painfully obvious.

Ending where she started, Sarah stops beside the bed, noting the bedside table. It's a clawfooted thing with a solid stone top that is cluttered with books and other items. Coming closer, she can make out a frame. But it's turned away, angled so she can't see the contents.

What faces her is a delicate portrait….of her own face. It's beautifully done. An oil rendition of a slightly younger Sarah, wearing what appears to be the ridiculous gown-thing he put her in at the masquerade hallucination – _"Where it needs to stay," _she thinks, wincing at the memory – staring off at something outside of the frame, lips slightly parted. Her hair is looser than it was at the masquerade, and she is a good bit older than fifteen. Sarah almost drops the thing in shock, biting back a gasp. In a hurry to put it back, she accidentally knocks over another object resting on the table, one that was so clear as to not have been previous perceived. She stoops to pick up –

A crystal.

And again, nearly drops it out of surprise.

That _"nearly"_ disappears, however, when the door in the next room – one of the connections to the royal apartments, she assumes – slams open, then shut, and the force of nature that is the Goblin King enters.

Sarah freezes automatically, breathless with anticipation. The crystal rolls several feet before halting at the edge of a carpet, center of a scarlet rose. She doesn't have the time to replace it on the side table. How would he react to find his prisoner searching through his bedroom? _"Probably not very gracefully." _She wouldn't.

He passes through the heavy curtains that divide the rooms, waving one hand carelessly behind him. This action causes the fabric to rise and patiently wait as thick silk cords tie them back into an elegant drape. His boots sound against the wood, an aggravated sound. By the time he's in full view, Sarah can see that he is very preoccupied; brow furrowed, hands clenching and unclenching. She wonders if it's anything to do with their last interaction.

Jareth passes her without a glance, choosing to stand by the fire. He leans against the mantle. In his poet's shirt and breeches, he fits into the room quite nicely. For a long moment, the king stares into the flame with blank eyes. Sarah cannot breathe. Nor can she move. After nearly five minutes her muscles begin to ache from retaining the pose.

When he glances up, she nearly bursts into tears. But…while the king is frowning, he's not looking at her. No acknowledgement. He doesn't appear to even see her. He has eyes only for the bedside table.

Sarah blinks. _"What?"_

He moves away from the fire, crossing to the bed. The Goblin King is mere feet from her, yet he doesn't seem to notice this. He picks up to the frame, briefly peering down at the portrait. With a sigh, he replaces it. Then proceeds to shuffle through the books, papers, and other objects, frown growing. He looks up, scans the floor. Upon seeing the crystal on the carpet, his brow clears. Scooping it up, he rubs the orb against his shirt.

Once satisfied with its restored shine, he wanders toward the balcony. He wiggles a few fingers, causing the doors to gently swing open. Sarah, all caution abandoned, follows on light limbs. She stops in the threshold, watching as Jareth settles on the stone ledge. An expression of preoccupation has claimed his features once more, and she dearly wishes to know why.

He isn't telling, though. Instead, the Fae does exactly what she's been up to all day – stares. Silent, focused, Jareth gazes intently into the crystal. And at once it's colours swirl, turning silver, then blurred images appear, coming into focus after a few seconds. Even from where she stands, Sarah can make herself out. Automatically, she can place the scene.

It's the night before she moved to college. Boxes are piled in the corner of her bedroom, all neatly labeled, ready to be loaded in a few hours. Her window is open, allowing the late summer air to waft in. Sarah lets out a long breath. She was so distraught that night. Terrified of the adulthood awaiting her with that move.

The Sarah of the crystal lays in an uneasy-half sleep. She is curled into herself, crying softly. Tears leak from too-bright eyes, while tiny sobs and gasps are released every so often. Hugging a pillow, she buries her face into her quilt. Her entire body quivers with excited nerves. The poor girl is on edge.

Sarah-outside-of-the-crystal knows it will be some long hours before the teenager finds sleep. _"I'd forgotten about it."_

She looks to Jareth, and finds, to her surprise, such an expression of genuine concern. He appears even more troubled than before. What occurs next astonishes her even more – the Goblin King proceeds to murmur into the crystal.

"Shhhhhh." He holds the orb aloft, eyelevel. "Come now, my girl. Don't be so distressed…it shall make you ill. You need sleep. Shhhhhh…."

Nearly a half-hour passes in this manner, with the king whispering encouragement and Sarah watching from the threshold. She knows now to be in something of a memory. It's curious that she ought to be here, but, the young woman doesn't give it much thought. Far too interested in the king's interaction with his scrying, Sarah allows herself to ignore the pressing questions of _"why?" _

Finally, the king lifts a few fingers above the crystal, stroking the surface with tenderness. "Sleep, foolish girl."

And Sarah-in-the-crystal slept.

That's when he looked to her. And, for a moment before she melted back into herself, back to the oubliette, Sarah Williams could've sworn he _saw _her –

**-XXX-**

**Thank you so much for the feedback! You guys are golden. **

**If you're interested, I just posted a S/J oneshot called "A Mess of Magic." Give it a look-see if you're jonesing for more! **

**As always, reviews are very much welcomed and appreciated. Questions, comments, concerns, critiques, I take and answer 'em all. Eventually. Thank you! **


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**Awesome response guys. I am so grateful for the feedback! **

**-XXX-**

It took some time, but she finally was relaxed enough for his crystal to work. Jareth watches as she falls into a trance. The scene he selected was ideal – honest, revealing a more loving facet of his attachment. With luck, it might work to sway the girl's perspective.

_"Patience," _he reminds himself mildly. No amount of memories will convince her to stay if Sarah's attitude toward the situation remained lukewarm, at best. To succeed, she has to see him as something besides an enemy to be defied, a villain to be defeated.

Clever people, he knows, will always manage to convince themselves away from the truth if it doesn't please them. The trick is making them see the truth can be very satisfactory. In Sarah's case, it's a matter of outlook.

With a sigh, the Goblin King settles into his armchair, replacing the crystal in stand on the nearby table. He's since moved from the throne room, choosing to observe from the comfort of his chambers. Little has altered since those eight years ago he sat on the balcony murmuring comforts to a teenaged Sarah. In reality, little has altered in the last eight hundred years; the sheets, a few of the rugs, but not much had suffered the standard wear and tear. He wonders if – should she choose to stay – Sarah might change things, perhaps. Add her own touches. Properly fill those shelves. Change out the curtains. That sort of thing.

The mere thought excites him more than he'd wish to admit. Shaking his head, Jareth rises, moving to the small bar that sat left of the fire to pour himself a scotch. One Aboveground creation he's grown rather fond of, so much so he's been known to import barrels of the stuff down every decade or so. He down the glass in a second, then pours another. Returning to the chair, he summons a book of accounts. For the entire day he's been fiddling with this game of wits against Sarah. It is long past time to do some legitimate work. Casting his mind off of the oubliette, the Goblin King begins to review the net potato product of the last three years.

**-XXX-**

Another day dawns. Bright and clear, a crisp new sun wakes the Goblin King. Sometime in the early morn, he'd woken in the armchair, slumped in the most uncomfortable of positions. Groaning loudly, he stumbled to the wardrobe, stripped to undergarments, slipped on a soft ivory nightshirt, then fell into bed with another groan. Limbs sore, he'd had a fitful time trying to find sleep again.

But sleep had come, and now he was awake once more. For several minutes, he lays still, loosing himself in the sound of constant breathing and the sight of morning light glistening on all the room's contents.

_"All looks new in dawn's light," _he thinks.

Then it is time to start the day. And time to consider Sarah.

As he dresses, Jareth ponders his next course of action. Over breakfast (tea, toast, and a neatly sliced pear), he refines the plan, deciding the simplier, the better. He's no clue what her state might be, so best not to push anything…too much. With a lighter heart, the Goblin King is eager to visit his captive. The few hours' of rest has given him enough energy to take on seven Sarahs – fantastic considering he's not slept in just over two months (Fae, not requiring the same amount of time for physical and mental recuperation as humans, didn't often sleep for the sake of rest).

Before leaving his apartment for the oubliette, Jareth dons his crescent pendent and, on a whim, his circlet. The iron briefly sears his forehead. Jareth winces, closing his eyes as the pain fades. Iron is practically poison to Fae, their equivalent to radiation – extended exposure could quickly turn fatal. Well, for most Fae. Jareth's kind of Fae – faeries of bluer blood – are not so adversely affected. His skin adapts to the metal swiftly.

The circlet was his birthright, given to him on his day of coronation. It's a braid of iron, melding into six ivy leaves, three on the right, three to the left, circling an oval-shaped diamond. He is quite proud of the thing, finding it to be regal without being too gaudy. Though, Jareth only wears it on official business, or when he finds that he has to remind someone of his position. Today it's an impulse that leads him to the cabinet that houses the royal jewels.

Before shutting the velvet-lined drawer, the king pauses. His fingers skirt a second piece of jewelry; the matching circlet. On the day of his coronation, he was presented with a second circlet of delicate craft. This was for his bride. The queen of the Underground. With the lightest of fingers (and only the faintest of quivers) Jareth lifts the slightly-smaller circlet. Eyelevel with the diamond, he imagines Sarah before him. Head bowed, hands folded, dressed in pristine white court robes….

He shakes his head. _"Not today." _

Replacing the jewelry, he closes the cabinet and transports himself to the oubliette.

**-XXX-**

She's still in the corner, curled up in a state of half-sleep, blinking in her daze. A pillow and thin blanket make up a cozy nest, along with a pallet. It's nothing especially nice, but far more comfortable than solid stone for a bed. He says nothing, merely looms as she collects herself slowly. Sarah eases herself into a sitting position. Brushing back her thick curtain of hair and smoothing her skirt, she peers up at the Goblin King calmly.

"Good morning," he offers.

"Is it?" Her eyes trace his features, gaze lingering on the circlet. With the examination, Jareth feels his spine straighten automatically.

Frustration has already risen in his throat and they've not yet exchanged more than four words. Flexing gloved fingers, the Goblin King moves forward, letting his eyes slide from her carelessly. Sarah waits as he paces.

"I don't wish to fight you, Sarah," he begins. "This conflict is draining on both of us."

"I don't want to fight either," she admits quietly.

He breathes slowly. "There is no alternative. I'm sorry. The Labyrinth knows you've won…it knows it is due for a new queen. Without you, it shall wilt. The goblins and other creatures will suffer. I cannot allow that, Sarah. Not even for you. The chaos that would ensue would be simply horrific."

Sarah swallows, looking away. She watches the light flicker against the stone wall for a long moment before asking in a small voice: "Can I…have some time to…to think it over?"

The silence that follows is cold. Frigid, Jareth nears, crouching to the human's level.

"I have given you a day, Sarah. How much longer must I wait? You knew of the conditions from the start –"

"I most certainly did not!" Gone was the quiet voice. Temper rising, Sarah's eyes spark and she's nearly shouting. "Ten years ago, all I was told was that I had to get to the castle at the center of the Goblin City within thirteen hours, then Toby and I could go home! There was no mention of monarchy!"

The king opens his mouth to argue, but she cuts him off swiftly.

"Besides, you've evidently kept things relatively under control since I was last here, why do you need me now? What's changed?" She peers up at him. Her tone has lost its slip of anger. Now there is an edge of panic, something a little…weaker.

Jareth rises. She follows slowly, limbs sore. Still looming – he'll always be taller than her – Jareth merely stares at her with impassive eyes.

"What's so different? What's changed?" she repeats.

"I decided I didn't want to do it alone anymore," he finally says, voice halting. "I could've forced you to claim your place here ten years ago. But you refused me…and you were so young. You simply saw an enemy attempting one final trick. It never occurred to you that I –" The king stops, dropping his gaze. "So I let you go. I kept the chaos at bay…for a while, the Labyrinth can go on with one monarch. She has for nearly a thousand years. Yet this place cannot be nearly as vibrant with only one of us….

"If you leave again," he murmurs, turning away from her, rubbing his right wrist. "Then I doubt I can keep this up. She will fall into disorder. _I _need you here Sarah, if not the Labyrinth, then me. If you need more time to consider that, take it."

Before he can disappear in his usual haze of glitter and smoke, she's gotten him round the very wrist he's been rubbing, turning the king toward her away, making him pause (because, to be frank, she doesn't quite have the strength to simply cause the Goblin King to halt). Wordless, Sarah claims both of his hands. Sliding her fingers over the black leather that encases them, she glances up for permission. He gazes down on her, wondering at her actions. They're a little more tender than any typical Sarah-like moves.

_ "'But what no one knew is that the king of the goblins had fallen in love with the girl….'" _She blinks. "Was that just part of the story, or was it true?"

He extracts a hand to lay it upon her cheek. "I think putting it in the story made it true."

Sarah stares.

For a long time, they just breathe. He presses closer, lightly, letting her fit into the crook of his neck so that he can inhale her warm scent. Sarah trembles only for a moment, but then tenses. Wary, but willing to test the waters. Minutes pass. Jareth takes her hair in hand, stroking slowly. It's an odd sensation with the gloves.

When they finally part, he presses a lingering kiss on her forehead, thumbs caressing her jaw.

"I'll give you time," he promises, stepping away deliberately.

Faintly protesting, Sarah clings to his hands. It's embarrassing, though; she's not typically one to cling to anybody, let alone a guy. _"Well, perhaps Jareth isn't just a 'guy.' He's a king. And…mine….." _The shock of "_mine" _sends a shiver coursing through Sarah. Jareth takes the opportunity to pull his limbs from her numb fingers.

"When you call, I will come," he tells her solemnly. Gently, he touches her temples. A fluid, icy sensation trails through her veins. Sarah grasps, eyes fluttering as the jolt of cold overtakes her senses.

**-XXX-**

**One more after this...!**

**Whatcha think so far? Reviews would be golden, please!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**And we've reached our end! I'm not going to continue any further with this story, unfortunately, though there is another S/J I've kinda started. _A Mess of Magic _ got a lot of people asking for a continuation, so it'll be added on to. **

**Anyways, thank you so much for reading! I've missed the Labyrinth fandom. The reviews have been great, thank you. **

**-XXX-**

Later, when she wakes up in her own bed, she will be disgruntled. He's positively certain of this.

**-XXX-**

Blinking back light, Sarah lies underneath her duvet for nearly an hour before rising, as slowly as a flower unfurls its petals. She is no longer sore, but draws herself a hot extra-bubbly bubble bath anyways. Another hours goes by spent in the tub. Twice she has to refill for hot water.

After she's dried off and dressed Sarah wanders into the kitchen. Blankly, she makes herself a cup of tea, along with a bagel and cream cheese. She eats in the living room, the Today Show playing in the background to her thoughts.

She's stunned. Completely confused. _"A dream?" _she wonders desperately. _"Or something that really happened?" _There was no sign, nothing to indicate she'd actually spent a day and a half in the underground. Unless –

Sarah zooms in on the date and time at the bottom right corner of the screen. It's right. The day following…not ahead or behind in the least. _"He might've re-ordered things," _she reasons. _"He's done it before." _

But reason isn't so reasonable when one is trying to convince themselves they've spent approximately thirty-six hours in a fantasy world only to have return to "real life" without time passing by more than six hours or so. Biting her lip, Sarah sits back into the couch, allowing herself to sink into the cushions. Supposing it was real – what now? Was she supposed to go on with life until…until what, she _"knew?" _Live day to day up to the point she figured out what she wanted? How is that supposed to work?

_"When you call, I will come." _

Yes, but call _how? _And besides, would call exclusively mean she's decided to move to the Underground? Or could it be a social call, merely to discuss terms and conditions? Was she allowed to do that? She has an awful lot of questions….Such as, will she ever be allowed to come back, to the Aboveground? Will she get magic powers? Do goblins bite? What would her queenly duties? Sarah wants to be an equal, Goblin Queen to Jareth's King, not any subordinate. Not a consort. Should she pack, if she did decide to go? Did they have showers in the underground, or strictly baths? Could Toby visit? Could she introduce the king to her family, for that matter? Besides that, how is she to explain her absence? What about her job? Sarah likes working….

It's dizzying. If she were not already sitting, Sarah would be reaching out for a seat or something steadying.

This was going to require some serious consideration. Days' worth.

She looks to the kitchen. _"This will take a few pots of tea," _she thinks wryly.

**-XXX-**

Two days. It took two days of thinking.

Sarah barricaded herself in the apartment. Alone with the cat, she pondered. It was a scientific process, an art, really. Many hot baths were taken. Many cups of tea went lukewarm after great periods of concentration. Pro and con lists were made. Ceilings stared at. Bit of wall bore into with glassy gazes. Hems fiddled with. Pens spun, tapped, tossed. It was quite a campaign.

Eventually she came to something of a conclusion.

Three more days passed under the duress of second thoughts.

Nails were bitten. Strands of hair twisted. More baths and tea follow. Long, elegant speeches of encouragement made before her bedroom mirror served to build up some facet of confidence to pair with uncertainty and dread. She didn't sleep much, in those three days. Nor eat. Mostly, she worried.

On the evening of the fifth day, Sarah feels ready. And perhaps, she really is. But it's far more likely she is not. Not even a little.

Sitting in her living room, nestled into the coffee-coloured couch, clutching a tastefully beaded throw pillow (it was a housewarming gift from Karen and was, therefore, naturally tasteful), the twenty-five-year-old summons strength from deep in her gut. _"You won the Labyrinth, Williams," _she reminds herself, tilting her chin upwards. _"First person in a thousand years to do so. You. Can. Do. This." _

Closing her eyes, she mouths the magic word. Barely a sliver of sound comes out. But it's enough.

"Goblin King?"

Silence.

Almost three minutes pass in complete, utter, unadulterated quiet. She bites her lip. Refusing to open her eyes, she thinks, _"I've been too long. He's not coming." _

Regret wells up in her throat. For a moment, a choking sensation claims her, and she has to swallow, hard, forcing it back down. Silently, she berates herself – first for the crying, then for waiting five days to pluck up the courage. _"Time moves differently down there, stupid, stupid Sarah." _For him, a century could've passed. Of course he'd stay away, he probably thought…he surely must think….

"I'd prefer Jareth, you know…._Goblin King _is just so formal…between friends…."

Warm hands cup her cheeks. She inhales the scent of leather, sage, and pine. Leaning into the figure before her, Sarah opens her eyes.

He's crouched, staring at her with a curious, unmasked gaze. One finger moves up to wipe away the tears Sarah wasn't aware of releasing. "Sarah," he whispers in that pronounced way, saying her name like it was a gift. "Crying? We can't have that….."

She then, of course, promptly flings herself at him, wrapping arms 'round his neck, burying her hands in his mane – which, thankfully, was quite a bit less teased and significantly less bushy than it was the first time she entered the Labyrinth. The king bites back a wide grin. For almost five full minutes Sarah squeezes. Then, she pulls back, tears gone and eyes clear. Brightly, she laces fingers with the Goblin King.

"What is the occasion, Ms. Williams?" he inquires, eye glittering madly.

"Well, I was thinking perhaps we might start with a cup of tea," she said, pointedly. "And then move up from there."

"Are you suggesting we…have a non-antagonist discussion? A visit between…."

"Friends," she confirms. "Friends who are seeking to become more then friends."

His eyebrows rose – which, is saying something considering their natural height – and Jareth says slowly, "Ah." Not-quite disappointed, the Goblin King pauses before asking, "Would you be aiming at building some sort of relationship so that we might…build our relationship?"

Sarah nods. "Yes. I don't want to jump into this. 'This' being ruling the Underground, and moving there and quitting my job, and maybe marrying you, or potentially having kids," she take a breath, continues haltingly. "And basically everything that comes attached to making your life part of mine. To sharing a life. Together."

Following a brief pause – which has no interjections from Jareth – she continues. "So, we'll, like, spend time together. Get to know each other properly (because you cannot really argue time spent running away from you or locked in your oubliette really counts towards 'quality time')." A steely edge enters her tone. "And if you're not okay with that…well. You'll either have to deal or I'm not comfortable with 'this' happening."

The Goblin King is reduced to saying, slightly dazed. Though he's wished it, night and day, to hear even a fraction of those phrase from his dear Sarah's mouth, the actual event of listening to her proclaim such bold possibilities – particularly the parts involving life-sharing – is more than a little excitably overwhelming. So, he stares, a little blankly, at her before blossoming into laughter.

"Yes," he says finally. "I think an arrangement of that nature would be quite alright."

**-XXX-**

**Fin. **

**Thanks for reading. Reviews would be golden! **


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